Soft as the massacre of Suns
By Evening's Sabres slain

These are the Nights that Beetles love --
From Eminence remote
Drives ponderous perpendicular
His figure intimate
The terror of the Children
The merriment of men
Depositing his Thunder
He hoists abroad again --
A Bomb upon the Ceiling
Is an improving thing --
It keeps the nerves progressive
Conjecture flourishing --
Too dear the Summer evening
Without discreet alarm --
Supplied by Entomology
With its remaining charm --

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant --
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind --

That odd old man is dead a year --
We miss his stated Hat.
'Twas such an evening bright and stiff
His faded lamp went out.

Who miss his antiquated Wick --
Are any hoar for him?
Waits any indurated mate
His wrinkled coming Home?

Oh Life, begun in fluent Blood
And consummated dull!
Achievement contemplating thee --
Feels transitive and cool.

The Merchant of the Picturesque
A Counter has and sales
But is within or negative
Precisely as the calls --
To Children he is small in price
And large in courtesy --
It suits him better than a check
Their artless currency --
Of Counterfeits he is so shy
Do one advance so near
As to behold his ample flight --

The smouldering embers blush --
Oh Hearts within the Coal
Hast thou survived so many years?
The smouldering embers smile --
Soft stirs the news of Light
The stolid seconds glow
One requisite has Fire that lasts
Prometheus never knew --

The Snow that never drifts --
The transient, fragrant snow
That comes a single time a Year
Is softly driving now --

So thorough in the Tree
At night beneath the star
That it was February's Foot
Experience would swear --

Like Winter as a Face
We stern and former knew
Repaired of all but Loneliness
By Nature's Alibit --

Were every storm so spice
The Value could not be --
We buy with contrast -- Pang is good
As near as memory --

The Wind took up the Northern Things
And piled them in the south --
Then gave the East unto the West
And opening his mouth

The four Divisions of the Earth
Did make as to devour
While everything to corners slunk
Behind the awful power --

The Wind -- unto his Chambers went
And nature ventured out --
Her subjects scattered into place
Her systems ranged about

Again the smoke from Dwellings rose
The Day abroad was heard --
How intimate, a Tempest past
The Transport of the Bird --

Too cold is this
To warm with Sun --
Too stiff to bended be,
To joint this Agate were a work --
Outstaring Masonry --

How went the Agile Kernel out
Contusion of the Husk
Nor Rip, nor wrinkle indicate
But just an Asterisk.

The Frost of Death was on the Pane --
"Secure your Flower" said he.
Like Sailors fighting with a Leak
We fought Mortality.

Our passive Flower we held to Sea --
To Mountain -- To the Sun --
Yet even on his Scarlet shelf
To crawl the Frost begun --

We pried him back
Ourselves we wedged
Himself and her between,
Yet easy as the narrow Snake
He forked his way along

Till all her helpless beauty bent
And then our wrath begun --
We hunted him to his Ravine
We chased him to his Den --

We hated Death and hated Life
And nowhere was to go --
Than Sea and continent there is
A larger -- it is Woe --

The duties of the Wind are few,
To cast the ships, at Sea,
Establish March, the Floods escort,
And usher Liberty.

The pleasures of the Wind are broad,
To dwell Extent among,
Remain, or wander,
Speculate, or Forests entertain.

The kinsmen of the Wind are Peaks
Azof -- the Equinox,
Also with Bird and Asteroid
A bowing intercourse.

The limitations of the Wind
Do he exist, or die,
Too wise he seems for Wakelessness,
However, know not i.